Bound to Second Place
by emma-swan-charming
Summary: Post-curse. Oneshot. "Her Royal Highness Emma Swan keeps a lot of things secret. Including how she her parents' joyous news really makes her feel." Emma and James father/daughter hurt/comfort. Hints of Snowing and Emma/Graham.


_A/N: Just a little post-curse oneshot about something that won't leave me alone. I've seen a lot of confession blogs hoping for a certain ending for Snow/Charming, and it always makes me feel for Emma, so…I wrote this. Plus, I am in dire need of Emma/David scenes on the show._

_So, yes. Post curse, family stuff. Also Graham is here. Partially because if I were ever going to visit Jefferson's hat, I'd make a beeline straight for the door marked Denial Land (between Oz and Neverland, probably), where Graham either never died or is totally going to be in the Enchanted Forest waiting when the curse is broken. But mostly, I just needed an adult besides her parents for Emma to open up to, and I can't really see her talking about this with anyone else. So. If the pairing isn't your thing, push through, because they aren't really the point._

_Title comes from the song "On My Way" by Boyce Avenue._

Bound to Second Place

_I wasn't there the moment  
That you first learned to breathe  
But I'm on my way, on my way  
I wasn't there the moment  
That you got off your knees  
But I'm on my way, on my way_

_Lay down_  
_And come alive in all you've found, All you're meant to be_  
_And for now_  
_Just wait until the morning light_  
_Close our eyes to see_  
_Just close your eyes to see_

Her Royal Highness Emma Swan has secrets.

Like…she keeps her jeans and red jacket, the clothes she was wearing when the curse was broken, hung up in her closet, and sometimes when she doesn't feel like herself in the long, flowing dresses, she puts on her own clothes.

Like…she finds herself wandering, more often than she'd like to admit, what's been happening on _Modern Family_, or who won the presidential election, or if there is any way to get the ingredients for pizza in the Enchanted Forest.

Like…sometimes she just misses all of it.

Like right now. She slams into her quarters, the bedroom in the huge wing that's all hers, and just for a second, she's wishing it's the apartment she shared with Mary Margaret in Storybrooke. She's even wishing, just for a second, that she's back before Mary Margaret was Snow, and certainly before she was Emma's mother. When they were just roommates and best friends, and James was just David, an annoyingly nice guy who Emma felt obligated to hate.

Emma curls on her side on her bed, her throat tight. There's a celebration going on in the banquet hall, but she doubts even Henry noticed her slip away.

"Hey, you."

She rolls over, startled, and immediately her whole body goes limp with relief. "Hi…"

Graham tugs off his thick leather gloves and tosses them aside, dropping on the bed beside her. "Missed you," he murmurs, the words falling against her lips before he encases them in his.

"Mmm…missed you, too." Emma rests her forehead against his, closing her eyes and breathing in the scent of trees and rain and woods. It's different from his old smell, the leather and coffee aroma that had stuck with her for the year and a half in Storybrooke after he "died".

She leans against him, his presence a welcome reminder of why she should never be anything but grateful the curse is broken.

Graham kisses her forehead. "Sorry it took me so long."

He never stays away for more than a week at the time, but he needs the woods, the fresh air and the freedom. Even the huge castle starts to feel like a cage after too long.

That's another secret, how much she misses him when he goes.

Emma's glad, at least, that she doesn't have to try to remember another name for Graham. He'd told her he never had one, not one humans used, at least.

He sits up slightly, his eyes scanning her face, concern slowly filling his eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Fine." The answer is almost a reflex, and her eyes dart away from his.

"_Emma_." His voice is gentle, but there's a distinct _I'm not buying it_ threaded through his tone. "Talk to me. What's going on?" He pauses, and she doesn't look up. "Sounded like there's a…ball or something going on downstairs. Why aren't you there?"

Emma shrugs away from him, stretching out on her bed, voice determinedly casual. "You didn't hear the big news?" He kicks off his boots, sliding a little closer to her on the bed, looking down at her quizzically. "Snow's pregnant."

She stares at the ceiling, jaw tight. When silence stretches with no reaction, Emma chances a quick glance at Graham.

His whole face is softened, eyes warm and empathetic, and Emma scowls even as warm tears rise to her eyes. "Don't look at me like that."

"Okay," Graham agrees quietly. He stretches out on the bed, curling beside her, silently threading his fingers through hers on top of Emma's stomach.

For awhile, they lay there in silence. Finally, Graham asks softly, "Did they tell you with everyone else?"

"Right before." Her voice is flat and hollow. "They're so…happy."

Graham lifts himself on his elbow, looking down at her. "I'm sorry."

For half a second, Emma's face tightens in a childlike mask of hurt. Just as quickly, she swallows, and schools her expression into an impassive look.

"It's a good thing," she states stubbornly. "They…they deserve this. They deserve a second chance at this." Emma pauses, waiting for Graham to pick up her thread and agree. He says nothing, but she can feel his eyes on her, so she keeps talking. "Henry's excited. He says he's going to have the youngest aunt or uncle ever." Another pause. Graham stays silent, patient. "And they still have the nursery set up, from, um, from before so that's good." Her voice catches.

Graham traces a finger lightly down Emma's cheek, and instantly her resolve crumbles, and when she speaks again, the neutral tone is gone, her voice fragile and broken. "It isn't fair."

"I know."

A sob tears out of her, and Emma covers her face with her hands, muffling a frustrated, angry cry. "_God_, I'm a terrible person."

"You aren't."

"Yeah, Graham, I am." She uncovers her face, angrily blinking back tears. "All I do is disappoint them. I…I can barely remember to call Mary Margaret _Snow_, much less _Mom_, and _James_ and I are still so awkward, even though I know how hard he's trying. Even Mary Margaret and I, it was easier before, when she was just my best friend, because she wants me to love it here so much, and I just…I still feel like I don't…I don't fit in, and I see the way they look at me, I see how bad they feel, when it's not even their fault, and I was sitting down there, _resenting_ the fact that they finally get to be happy…" She cuts herself off, gritting her teeth angrily and screwing her eyes shut.

Graham strokes a strand of her hair, touch gentle, choosing his words carefully. "Emma. You do not have to be selfless every second of every day. Okay?" She doesn't reply, and Graham continues, "Hey. Look at me." Slowly, reluctantly, she does. "_You_ are doing great, Em. And none of this is fair. You missed out on your parents…_really_ getting to be your parents. And when you finally got them back, they're your age, and then you moved to this whole other world and…Emma, there is nothing easy about any of that."

She blinks out a few tears, nestling her face against his sleeve. "I _do_ love them," she insists in a small, desperate voice.

"I know you do." Graham soothes softly, stroking her hair. "They know it, too."

"I just…I don't know how to…I don't know how to be a daughter. Especially like this, so…it's good. They should get to be…real parents…"

Emma's voice falters, and Graham brushes his lips against her hairline. "It'd be hard on anyone Em." He pauses, thinking. "You should talk them. Tell them how you feel."

Scoffing, Emma shakes her head. "Why? Ruin this thing that's finally making them happy? Make them feel guilty about something that isn't their fault?" She laughs, humorlessly. "Because none of this is. It's…it's all Regina and the…_fucking_ curse."

"I know," he says simply, not commenting on the very unprincesslike language.

Emma draws a deep, steadying breath, looking up at Graham and smiling a little. "But I know…if there was no curse, there's no Henry. And…I'd never have met you."

He smiles back, teasingly. "Well, we still might have _met_. You never know. Just…you would have been raised a princess. _Never_ would have looked twice at a huntsman."

She grins, the slightest spark returning to her eyes, and corrects, "An _elderly_ huntsman."

"I wouldn't say elderly…"

"No, you would have been pretty ancient." She kisses him softly, then drops her head on his chest. "Graham? Thank you."

~(OUAT)~

Graham always sleeps heavily, his first night back, but Emma's restless. After an hour and a half of lying awake, listening to him breathe, she extracts herself slowly from the bed, wraps herself in a silk robe, and wanders through the curves and spiral staircases to the castle's kitchen.

She's rarely there, having discovered early on that wandering idly into the kitchen for a snack means being met with kitchen staff eager to please her, which is always overwhelming.

Now, though, it's dark and quiet, and she's able to make her own hot cocoa, being generous with the cinnamon.

The familiar taste has an immediate calming effect, but Emma still finds herself wandering the castle, brooding and strangely sad.

She stops in front of the room she hasn't been inside since the first day they'd reappeared in the castle.

The royal nursery .

Emma walks inside, slowly and carefully surveying the room, a fist sized lump forming in her throat.

It's perfectly preserved. The cradle in the center of the room, the warm pastel colors of the rug, the rocking chair in the corner, the paintings on the ceiling, the toys and books stacking every shelf, all of it waiting for a life unlived.

Emma lifts a stuffed teddy bear and worries the impossibly soft fur between her fingers. She's still staring down at it when she hears a voice from the doorway.

"Emma?"

She turns, startled, and squints at the silhouette in the doorway, fumbling for a smile. "James, hi." The name change is easier with him.

He strikes a match, lighting one of the torch lamps lining the wall and smiles warmly at her. "Couldn't sleep?"

Emma laughs awkwardly, lowering her eyes. "Yeah, you know, just…thought I'd walk a few miles around the castle."

James laughs, coming into the room, eyes going wistful as he scans it. His gaze lands on the stuffed bear in her hands. "Oh…I bought that. At a street market." He pauses, and when she doesn't respond, he adds, "Most of the toys, people crafted and sent, as gifts. But this one…" He strokes the bear's ear between his fingers. "We stopped our carriages near a street fair, to give the horses a rest, and I stopped at one of the booths. It's so soft, see? I got it in my head that it'd be your favorite."

Emma can't look at him. She passes the stuffed animal to him. "Well, at least now someone can use it."

She can feel the weight of his gaze on her, and after a long silence, he presses the bear into her hands. "No, I can…find a different one. Got that one for you."

Emma's fist closes tightly around the bears paw, throat narrowing. "Mar-…Snow sleeping?" she asks in a tight voice, desperately trying to change the subject.

"She is…" James hesitates, then adds, "I saw you left dinner...is everything alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, it's…Graham's back. So. I went with him. " She crosses her arms in front her chest, instinctively defensive, the stuffed animal still dangling from her hand. "Congratulations, again."

"Thank you." He smiles. "I remember when we found out Snow was pregnant with you, she claimed to know it was a girl from the beginning, but this time-"

Emma shakes her head hard, pushing past him, heading out of the nursery. "I'm sorry, David, I..I can't do this right now."

"James," he corrects automatically, already moving to follow her, his expression concerned.

Emma freezes, a breathless, humorless laugh escaping her. "You know…the new baby, she's gonna…she'll call you _Dad_. She won't…get your name wrong. So that's…" Her voice falters. "That's good."

"Emma.." The way he says her name, heavy with sorrow, cuts her to the quick.

"I have to go to bed…"

She's halfway out of the nursery when his voice stops her. "We weren't trying."

Emma slowly turns around. Even in the dim, flickering light, the pain in his expression is obvious. "I just…I want you to know. We weren't trying, it was…unexpected." He rakes a hand through his hair, looking beseechingly at his daughter. "I don't want you to think we were trying to…replace you."

Tears stab insistently at her eyes, and Emma lowers her head, fighting them back angrily. "I get it," she forces out, voice thick. "Nothing that happened was your fault, what she did to you. It's just…you get to pick up where you left off. I can't…I can't get back what I lost, but you two can and I…I'm happy that you get another chance."

"Emma…" His hands cup her arms and he ducks his head, trying to catch her eye. "That isn't true. We lost…we lost your whole childhood. The first twenty-eight years of your life, we lost that. And we can never get that back, new baby or not, and I am _so_…" His voice breaks, and finally she looks up at him. "…so sorry for that."

_Fucking shit damn it to hell…_ The string of curse words loops through her mind, but it does nothing to stop the tears from sliding down her face. She shakes her head hard, trying to convey without words that he has nothing to be sorry for.

She finally forces herself to speak, voice shaking, "No, I…_I'm_ sorry. I've been trying I really have, but I just…I just keep disappointing you, and hurting Snow, and I should just be happy for both of you, but…"

Then she's bawling like a four year old, and when he pulls her against him, she doesn't hesitate, burying her face in his shoulder and sobbing.

James rocks her slightly, back and forth like she's still the little girl he never got to know, shushing her quietly, his voice low and soothing.

"Ssh, it's okay. Sssh, sweetheart, I've got you. It's okay…"

Her sobs slowly dwindle, but Emma doesn't move right away. There's a dim, distant embarrassment already stirring in her chest, but mostly she's just focusing on this, on what it's like to be held by someone that she fully and completely trusts not to hurt her.

Her father. She's never felt the truth of it so viscerally, and finally she pulls back to look at him. He gently wipes the last remnants of tears away.

"Emma. Listen to me. You have nothing to apologize for. You are everything we could have wished for. You are smart, and strong, and caring and brave…and you did it all on your own. Your mother and I, we just…we can't stand that you had to be alone for so long."

Emma flushes under the praise. "But what about…Mary Margaret and I we were…we were so close, in Storybrooke, and now I feel like I just…I don't know how to make her happy. I hear her crying, sometimes…"

James smiles a little, his eyes tinged with sadness. "You know, she always says that she's jealous of me. That you can think of me as a completely different person easier…"

Emma winces. "I know, I always get her name wrong…"

"But then I tell her I'm the one who's jealous. You loved her already. I'm…still working on that."

Tentatively, shyly, she smiles up at him. "You're doing pretty well."

The smile that lights James' face makes her feel like her hearts too big for her chest. "We just both want you to be happy here. And I know it's hard, just…take all the time you need. And if there's anything we can do to help, we will." He touches her chin, not letting her look away. "But stop worrying about not being enough for us. Because you, Emma Swan, are perfect."

Her eyes fill again, just like that, and she flippantly forces out, "No one's perfect."

"Only to their parents," he says with a smile. "And this new little guy is anything like his older sister…then he's going to be pretty damn lucky."

She hugs him, then, hard, the teddy bear squashed between them. They hold on for a long time before Emma pulls back, arching an eyebrow. "Guy?"

James shrugs. "Your mother insists it's a boy." He smiles, wrapping an arm around his daughter as they slowly move from the nursery. "And she got it right before."

~OUAT~

_Reviews would make my life._


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